Chapter 5 - THE HEAVY WOOL COAT
Vanessa backed against the doorframe, her face completely drained of color.
“You’re crazy,” she whispered, but her voice lacked its usual venom. It sounded hollow, desperate. “You have brain damage, Michael. You don't know what you’re saying.”
Luca looked at the broken rosary in his brother's hand.
Then he looked at the woman he was supposed to marry in three months.
“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly soft. “Take off the ring.”
Vanessa gasped, clutching her left hand to her chest. The massive diamond caught the light of the hallway.
“Luca, no! You can't believe him over me! I love you! I love Nicholas!”
“Don't say his name,” Luca snapped, stepping toward her. “You turned off my son's hearing aids to isolate him. You kept my brother drugged. Take. It. Off.”
Sobbing, Vanessa fumbled with her finger and pulled the ring off. She held it out, but Luca didn't take it. He let it drop to the hardwood floor.
It bounced twice and rolled into the corner.
Marcus Bellini sneered. “You think you’re so smart, Luca? You think breaking an engagement solves your problems? You owe the Bellini family. We have the leverage.”
Luca turned his cold gaze to Marcus.
“You have nothing. I run Chicago. You run a glorified social club.”
Marcus laughed. It was a vicious, victorious sound.
“Do I? Then ask your precious maid why she’s really working here.”
The room shifted.
Suddenly, all eyes were on me.
My stomach plummeted. “What are you talking about?”
Marcus reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded legal document.
“Your mother, Emily. Such a sweet, desperate woman. Her medical bills were piling up, the mortgage was three months behind. Who do you think bought her debt from the bank?”
I felt the blood rush in my ears. “No. The bank gave us an extension.”
“I gave you an extension,” Marcus corrected, smiling cruelly. “Through my holding company. We needed someone inside Luca’s house. Someone invisible. A maid.”
Luca looked at me, his eyes searching my face for betrayal.
“Emily?” Luca asked.
“I didn't know!” I cried, panic rising in my chest. “I swear to God, Mr. Moretti. I applied through an agency. I thought I just got lucky.”
“She didn't know,” Vanessa spat, wiping her face. “She’s too stupid. But her mother knew. Her mother signed the contract agreeing to provide us with information on the Moretti family in exchange for the debt being forgiven.”
Marcus held up the paper, pointing to a signature at the bottom.
“If you fire her, or if you touch us,” Marcus threatened, “I foreclose on her mother’s house tomorrow. And I hand this contract over to the police, proving Emily was an accessory to corporate espionage.”
I felt like the floor was giving way beneath me.
My mother had signed a deal with the mafia? To save our house?
“You manipulated a sick woman,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision.
“I made a business deal,” Marcus replied coldly. He looked at Luca. “The wedding happens. Our families merge. Or I destroy the maid, her mother, and I take my claims against your brother public.”
Silence settled heavily in the room.
I looked at Luca. He had every right to throw me out. I was a liability. A spy, even if I didn't know it.
But Luca didn't look at Marcus. He looked at Nicholas.
My ten-year-old charge had moved across the room and wrapped his small arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my apron.
Luca’s expression shifted.
He looked at me, then down at the floor, specifically at my feet.
“Emily,” Luca said quietly. “Do you remember the night you came for your interview?”
I blinked, thrown off by the question. “Yes, sir. It was raining.”
“You were wearing a coat,” Luca continued, stepping closer. “A heavy, navy-blue wool coat.”
“Yes,” I said. “It was my father’s. It’s the only warm coat I own.”
Luca nodded slowly. He turned back to Marcus Bellini.
“You said Emily’s father, Thomas Carter, was a nobody. A drunk who owed you money.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “He was a mechanic who couldn't pay his gambling debts.”
“If he was a nobody,” Luca said, his voice dropping an octave, “then why did my security cameras catch one of your men taking Thomas Carter’s heavy wool coat out of my coat closet two weeks ago?”
My breath hitched.
My father’s coat. I had reported it stolen, thinking one of the caterers had taken it by mistake.
Vanessa’s eyes darted nervously to her father.
“They were looking for something,” Luca said softly. “Something Thomas hid in that coat before he died. Before he bought that train ticket.”
May you like
Luca reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small, oil-stained key.
“Is this what you were looking for, Marcus?”
